


Five Hundred Forty-Six Million

by teamaequitas



Category: Marvel, X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Doomed Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, M/M, mentions of Sabretooth and Cyclops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:39:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5167568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamaequitas/pseuds/teamaequitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-DoFP. Charles and Erik are still very much in love, but know they can never openly be together. But that doesn't stop them from seeing each other in secret from time to time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Hundred Forty-Six Million

It’s dark when Erik comes to him that night. But then, it always is. Because when the light of day shines on them, their true selves are hidden from the world. They are leaders – the extreme ends of two very opposing sides. They are the fearsome terrorist Magneto, and the benevolent activist Professor X. It is only under the dark cloak of night that they can come together like this – as simply Charles and Erik.

It has been happening for years now, since the event in D.C. The two men will be at each other’s throats under the watchful eyes of the world. But in quiet darkness, every so often, Erik will slip away to visit Charles – his equal, his best friend, his love.

These nights’ activities vary depending on their moods and the events of the particular week. They are often filled with chess, or long conversation. They can even be romantic, filled with sweet words, longing kisses, and desperate love making. They can be when compromises are reached, or when the worst of arguments break out – as they have tonight.

Charles knows the instant Erik crosses into the grounds of the mansion, helmet or not. And even as he slips silently though Charles’ bedroom window, the telepath does not bother to move from his bed or even open his eyes to greet him.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here after that stunt your people pulled this week,” Charles states firmly, still lying on his side as Erik steps in.

“How did you-?” Erik begins, confused, as he reaches to touch his helmet.

“You’re not as stealthy as you think you are,” Charles retorts, finally sitting up and looking at the intruder with a scowl.

“But-”

“The helmet is almost as obvious to me as if you weren’t wearing it, Erik,” Charles sighs, exasperated, as he rolls his eyes. Erik’s expression is still bewildered as he slips the damned thing off, but Charles doesn’t much feel like explaining it to Erik so he moves on (and decidedly stays far away from Erik’s mind, even when it’s available). “Never mind, what do you want?”

“Why are you being so hostile?” Erik asks, stepping cautiously closer.

“Are you joking? After happened to Scott on Thursday, did you expect me to welcome you into my bed with open arms?”

“After what–?” Erik starts before shaking his head. “Charles, that was an  _accident_.”

“It was  _not_ , Erik! Believe me, your man knew  _exactly_  what he was doing,” Charles seethes.

“Well maybe  _Cyclops_  shouldn’t have gotten in his way,” Erik retorts, his face falling into that hard line Charles is oh-so familiar with.

“ _In his way_?” Charles repeats, baffled and offended. “Erik, that incident nearly cost Scott his life! He’s still recuperating! We have a deal–!”

The telepath cuts himself off when he realizes he’s been shouting. He quickly checks the surrounding minds to ensure everyone’s still asleep before inhaling sharply and continuing in a quieter, yet still livid tone.

“We have a  _deal_ , Erik. No harm to my X-Men, no harm to your Brotherhood. If you break that deal, so help me–”

“I won’t,” Erik cuts him off, tone clipped. “It won’t happen again.”

Charles falters only briefly before regaining his composure and setting his jaw. “It’d better not. You need to get that  _Sabretooth_  of yours under control before I bloody-well do it for you.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Erik sneers, tone practically dripping with acid.

Something in Charles’ chest twinges at that horrible sound and the fact that it’s directed at him. But he promptly ignores it, burying those feelings deep down to be dealt with never.

“…Well, if there’s nothing else.” He swallows back the traitorous knot of hurt in his throat and lies back down, tugging the blanket up to his chin and closing his eyes.

He thinks he hears Erik sigh, but he doesn’t hear him leaving. Still, Charles refuses to open his eyes.

“…It’s regrettable that your leader got hurt,” he finally hears Erik say. If his eyes were open, Charles would have rolled them.

“That’s not the same as an apology, Erik.”

Another sigh. “…I didn’t come here to fight,” Erik tries again, and Charles almost wants to believe that. But he’s angry. Upset with Erik, upset that Scott is in recovery, upset with this  _world_ , and upset that he’s miserably committed to this maniac.

(He’s upset that he doesn’t mean that.)

“…I’m  _tired_ , Erik,” Charles lies. But he needs an excuse to get him to leave before they do something very stupid.

It seems that Erik’s finally taking the hint, because Charles hears him step back towards the window. But he doesn’t hear the window open. If Charles could still bounce his leg impatiently, he’s sure he would be doing so.

“…Charles?” Erik says before he leaves, hesitating by the window. The helmet hangs in the air, not yet ready to be placed over his head.

“Yes, Erik,” It’s not so much a question as it is a sigh, his tone neutral and dull. It has to be, lest he give away how much he breaks each time Erik steps out that window.

“…Does it still belong to me?” Erik asks, turning around to face Charles again. The telepath hasn’t moved from where he lies on his side, nor has he opened his eyes, but he detects the miniscule crack in Erik’s voice when he asks that. When Charles says nothing, Erik continues. “Your heart…” he clarifies, “Is it still mine?”

Charles inhales deeply and then exhales with a sigh. For a moment, it is the only sound that fills the silence in the room as Charles decides. Decides whether or not he’s going to forgive Erik now, or later. It’s pointless to hold on to anger, he knows, and toxic beyond belief. So he doesn’t. And Charles lets it slip away right then. He remains unmoved, though, eyes still closed, when he finally answers.

“Five hundred forty-six million,” Charles finally responds.

A beat.

“What?” Erik asks, brows furrowed tight in confusion as he looks at Charles’ form on the bed.

Finally, the telepath moves. He sits up with a sigh, and blinks his blue eyes open at Erik – whose figure is only silhouetted in front of the window, moonlight only palely illuminating half his face.

“Five hundred forty-six million,” Charles says again, before taking mercy on Erik’s confusion and elaborating. “The average heart beats about forty-two million times a year. Thirteen years have passed since I first met you. That means my heart has beaten approximately five hundred forty-six million times since then. Five hundred forty-six million heartbeats… and every single one of them belonged to you.”

There is a moment, then, where everything stills. The air seems to be sucked from the room, and the night is completely silent. It is so still, so quiet, that Charles almost wonders if Erik is even breathing.

 _Thud_.

The helmet drops to the floor, breaking the silence, and in one sudden swoosh of a cape, Erik is instantly on top of Charles. His mouth crushes against the professor’s desperately, his entire body weight pressing Charles down into the mattress. Gloved fingers interlace with bare ones, squeezing tightly and pinning Charles’ hands by his head.

The air between them grows heated and thick as they kiss, Erik’s body moving in rolling motions atop Charles. Their mouths stay desperately pressed to one another, gasping breaths coming hot and heavy between their lips when they dare part a fraction enough to breathe. Charles feels as though his tongue is in a  _battle_  with Erik’s, warm and demanding, fierce and passionate. He explores and tastes and _savours_  every moment of having Erik so close to him again. His body arches up against Erik’s, pleading silently for more contact.

Charles moans and presses up against Erik’s grip on his hands. He wants to touch. God, he wants to  _touch_. A whine leaves the back of his throat and Erik, finally, takes his meaning. He lets go of Charles’ hands and the telepath immediately seeks Erik’s chest. It’s covered with that damned armour, but they roam over it anyway, sliding to his less-covered sides, his hips, gripping fiercely.

Erik finally breaks from Charles’ mouth to kiss down his jaw. It’s smooth, now, for the summer, instead of the full beard Charles had sported last winter. Erik seems to have no complaints about it, though, as he presses biting kisses all down Charles’ jaw and neck. The professor’s hands move to Erik’s hair, tangling there and holding his head to him as he gasps and moans.

Charles, in all honestly, is completely overwhelmed with emotion. Not only is he flooded with his own, but he is drowning in the waves of affection and need flowing from Erik. And it isn’t until Erik’s nose brushes against a spot of wetness that he realises he’s crying. Erik’s movements slow, and he pulls back to look at Charles.

“Charles…?” he asks, voice thickly laced with his German accent.

“ _No_ ,” Charles chokes out, shaking his head vehemently. “Ignore it. Don’t stop.” _Please_  don’t be tender. He can’t deal with any more tenderness right now.

“But,  _liebling_ …”

“Shut  _up_ ,” Charles hisses. “Don’t stop, Erik, don’t you  _dare_  fucking stop.”

Blue eyes flash fierce in the moonlight, challenging,  _daring_. Erik hesitates only a moment before nodding his head and diving back into the crook Charles’ neck.

Soft gasps and pleasured moans fill the quiet night air as clothes are slowly stripped from heated bodies and tossed away. Marks are left on each of them with teeth and nails, private evidence of their night of passion for days to come. They look and touch and  _kiss_  their fill of one another, never able to get enough. Charles’ mind wraps around Erik’s, so deeply connected that he can hardly decipher where he ends and Erik begins.

Pleasures are brought from the mouth and hands and fingers for long, burning minutes on end. Up until the moment Erik is ready to let Charles fill him. They cling to each other, the only words leaving each other’s lips are their names, gasped and intense as Erik rides them into a beautiful release. Sparks fly behind two sets of eyes, sharing their climax physically, emotionally, and mentally.

Erik sits slumped in Charles’ lap for a long moment afterwards as they catch their breath. Charles rests his forehead against Erik’s shoulder, kissing along a sweat-slicked collarbone lazily as his fingers trace small circles on the magnetist’s hips.

Eventually, once their breaths are evened out, their heartbeats returned to normal, and their skin cooled, Erik rolls off of Charles. But he doesn’t go far, instead tugging Charles close, back to his chest. It is still silent as Erik presses lazy kisses along Charles’ freckled, pale shoulder. Gentle as he brushes his mouth along Charles’ back and neck, to his throat and his jaw, his cheek and temple and hair. Charles only sighs pleasantly, allowing Erik to do as he pleases and holding him close, warm and content.

After several long minutes, Erik whispers against Charles’ hair, barely audible as if it is a secret meant for only him to hear, “…I love you, Charles.”

Charles closes his eyes and bites his lower lip as he swallows back the hard, painful lump in his throat. There is so much sincerity, so much love, flowing from Erik. Twinged with the ever-present weight of sadness, knowing that they can never be together. Not any more than just this – stolen nights of passion in between weeks of being at each other’s throats.  _Enemies_ , to the eyes of the outside world. There is nothing for them to find in each other except for heartbreak, and yet they cannot leave. They cannot stop. There is no one, not a single other person in the world, who could replace them. There is no love like this anywhere else. It transcends all boundaries and limits. Charles knows, deep down, that this is what a soulmate is.

“I love you, too, Erik,” Charles finally whispers back, turning in Erik’s arms so that he can open his eyes and look at that beautiful face. A pale hand lifts to cup Erik’s cheek warmly, his thumb tracing over those defined cheekbones. “…So much that it hurts,” he admits, his voice choking as a tear slips from the corner of his eye.

“…Is it supposed to hurt like this?” Erik asks quietly, closing his eyes. His hand raises to gently wrap around Charles’ wrist and nuzzle into his palm.

“I don’t know,” the telepath says with a trembling shrug, voice cracking. He’s never had much of a basis for love. Neither of them have.

They breathe together for a moment as Erik keeps that hand cupped to his face and Charles watches him, until Erik opens his eyes again. He moves his hand to card through Charles’ hair gently, eyes roaming over his face with open affection.

“Do you think it will always be like this?” Erik asks, fingers still running through dark locks.

“No,” Charles answers, shaking his head as his hand still cups Erik’s cheek, thumb brushing gently against his face. “I have hope for us, my love. Faith that, one day, the world will be a place that will allow us to be together finally. The way we want to be, the way we were always meant to be.”

He has to maintain that hope. Difficult as it may be, he has to believe it will get better. Or else he may never survive.

“Always such foolish optimism, Charles,” Erik says, but it is soft and he is smiling down at Charles.

“Always such cynical pessimism, Erik,” Charles retorts, but he, too, is smiling softly. Erik chuckles and bends down to kiss those swollen red lips again.

It starts off with the intent of being a chaste press of mouth, but Charles tugs him back down when Erik moves to pull away. He opens his mouth for him and they kiss for several more long minutes. There is no heat to it, it will lead nowhere (as two men in their forties, they can no longer go for the second or the occasional third round of love making as they once did over a decade ago), but it is passionate. Hands roam and tongues drag together gently, languidly, as they kiss simply for the joy of kissing. For the intimacy of it.

Eventually, Erik is the one to pull away, just barely nuzzling against Charles’ face.

“Will you stay?” Charles whispers, breath hot against Erik’s jaw.

“You know that I can’t,” Erik replies, heart heavy. Charles finally opens his eyes, urging Erik’s face back just enough to look up at him with swimming blue eyes.

“Please?” he whispers, fingers curling back into Erik’s hair. “Just until I fall asleep?”

There’s only the briefest of pauses before Erik nods once, leaning down to kiss the corner of Charles’ mouth again.

“Just until you fall asleep,” he repeats and settles behind Charles’ back, pulling him close and nuzzling the back of his neck.

Charles sighs and sinks into the warmth of their bed, Erik’s body, and his mind. He feels safe, content, and at peace in Erik’s arms. At least for now. All hints of sadness have been shoved into the farthest reaches of his mind, not even dared to be touched.

It is not long until his breathing becomes deep and slow, and Erik knows that Charles has slipped into the sweet, dark bliss of unconsciousness.

Carefully (and with great heartache), he maneuvers himself away from Charles and out of bed. He dresses silently and efficiently. It will be dawn soon, and he has to sneak away under the veil of darkness before the world wakes up.

The window slides open on its own, and Erik’s helmet rests in his hands. He won’t put it on until he’s far enough away that the loss of connection won’t wake Charles. Though, as his foot steps onto the window seal, it would appear it doesn’t matter.

“Erik?” comes Charles’ soft, sleepy, British-lilted voice from behind him.

Erik turns to look at his sleepy love, one lithe hand outstretched towards him. The magnetist sighs, forever unable not to come when Charles beckons for him. He steps back down and moves silently to crouch beside Charles’ bed, taking his hand.

“I have to go,  _liebling_ ,” Erik murmurs, holding Charles’ hand to his face and warmly kissing the inside of that delicate wrist. “Go back to sleep.”

“Does it still belong to me?” Charles whispers, still half asleep. There’s a moment of breath before Charles opens stunning blue eyes at Erik. “Your heart. Is it still mine?”

Erik smiles, all but melting onto the floor. “Five hundred forty-six million beats, and every pause in between; you’ve made it impossible for it to ever belong to another,” he assures the telepath, kissing his knuckles gently.

A sleepy smile graces Charles’ lips and Erik has to kiss them one last time.

“Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight, Erik.”

The magnetist’s hand falls away from Charles’ and he finally turns to slip through the window and away from the Xavier mansion.

Erik and Charles are left in the memories of their night together, while Magneto and Professor X once again resurface, waiting for the day that they can be one in the same.


End file.
